John D. Zizioulas is probably the best-known voice of the Orthodox Church in Britain, with 40 years' experience of advances and reversals in ecumenical dialogue, and is able to count the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams, among his many admirers.  Theo Hobson talked to him about the themes of his new book

If you ask a British theologian to name a living Orthodox thinker, he or she is highly likely to name John D. Zizioulas - and indeed to have read his book of 1985, Being as Communion. This is partly because Zizioulas has spent most of his academic career in this country, and partly because his thought is so in tune with the dominant currents of Anglican and Catholic theology. He has now published another book, called Communion and Otherness, which Rowan Williams calls "a great book", and "a comprehensive model for the whole of Christian theology".

Zizioulas is Greek Orthodox and Metropolitan of Pergamon, which is in Turkey. When Turkey's Greek Orthodox population was expelled in the 1920s, it became a sort of ghost see, and remains so: he is only permitted to officiate in Pergamon's ruined church very occasionally. This may in part explain the rather forlorn look of the man, whom I meet at the London office of his publisher. Sitting in a boardroom overlooking Waterloo station, this gentle elderly man is a black-cassocked fish out of water. His gold-chained pendant cross is concealed, as if to display it in such a setting would be inappropriate. I have been told that he is shy of nosy questioners, and it is immediately apparent: he greets me warmly but warily.

Having studied at Greek universities, and at Harvard, Zizioulas worked at the World Council of Churches headquarters in Gen-eva in the late 1960s. Here he formed links with Anglican theologians that were to determine his future career. To Anglo-Catholics in the 1960s, Orthodoxy had something of the appeal of rock 'n' roll: it was exotic, authentic, exactly the shot in the arm that Western theology needed. And blessed was it in that dawn to be an ecumenist, for there was a slightly utopian belief in the possibility of reunion - largely an effect of the Second Vatican Council, of course. In 1970 he began teaching at Edinburgh, and soon gained a reputation as an authority on the Greek Fathers, and on contemporary Orthodox theology. He once received a phone-call from Cambridge's most famous theologian, Donald MacKinnon: would he please advise a student of his called Rowan Williams? He soon moved to Glasgow, where he was professor of systematic theology for 14 years. He has also spent 17 years on the International Commission of the Anglican-Orthodox Theological Dialogue.

Has this dialogue been running out of steam in recent years, I wonder, after the optimism of the 1960s? "There has been a growing sense of closeness throughout the twentieth century, but progress has been stalled by the ordination of women to the Anglican priesthood, which makes it impossible for many Orthodox Churches to recognise Anglican orders." Dialogue with Roman Catholicism has encountered similar problems. "The Pope's recent statement on the status of other Churches is a narrow interpretation of the Second Vatican Council. It is noticeable that the Orthodox are deliberately referred to in the plural, as ‘Churches' rather than ‘Church', which implies that a Church that does not recognise papal primacy will necessarily be divided among itself. And this comes soon after the abolishing of the papal title ‘Patriarch of the West', which could have been a means to reconciliation." These developments are especially frustrating for someone who once worked on the editorial board of the theological journal, Concilium, alongside an open-minded young German professor: "It's difficult to believe it now, but Ratzinger himself [now Pope Benedict XVI] wrote an article that argued that the East did not have to accept the primacy of Rome. So there's no doubt that the ecumenical climate has changed."

His influential book of 1985 was a philosophical meditation on the nature of church, influenced by the French Catholic theologians Henri de Lubac and Yves Congar, whose thought underpinned Vatican II. "Their thought was partly influenced by the Greek Fathers, but in my opinion they did not go deep enough into the patristic concepts of God, and ecclesiology." His recent book is a continuation of this approach: it shows how the concept of "otherness" is central to the Christian understanding of Being, or "ontology". Readers who feel put off by these words should be assured that his basic thesis is very simple. We are not essentially individuals but "persons" who exist in relation to others, and the otherness of nature, and who find true freedom in community. The model of openness to "otherness" is the Trinity, and the Church exists to enable our participation in this social ideal. It is when the Church neglects this that it develops authoritarian tendencies. 

The appeal of this theology is that it offers a dual critique: of secular individualism, and of ecclesiastical authoritarianism. It seems to point towards a form of liberalism, or openness to "otherness", that is rooted in the Trinity rather than in secularism. But does it stand up to scrutiny? Perhaps the most obvious objection, I suggest, is that secular liberalism seems more accepting of otherness than any actual Church, if "otherness" is understood as acceptance of those who are different from oneself. "But in secular thought," he patiently explains, "otherness is subjected to the self, to individual consciousness - what is called acceptance of the other is really a selfish endeavour, on the part of groups interested in their own welfare." So there is nothing positive in Western liberalism? "There is some good here, but it does not seek real freedom. Consider this: could one, as a liberal, renounce one's own rights?"

Another criticism that could be made of his ecclesiology is that it is too idealistic. To portray the Church as a Trinitarian social model is somewhat at odds with the various institutional realities, isn't it? "It's a very good question. If we look at the way that all the Churches behave in history we have to admit that they are far from being communities of otherness. Ecclesiology is prescriptive, it seeks to move the Church in a certain direction. You might call that ‘idealistic', as long as you don't mean it in a pejorative sense." But surely the danger is that such idealism will not be critical; it will serve to glorify the actual institutions, to put them beyond criticism? "No, we can and must be honest: that the Church is not faithful to herself, and as a result official Churches are governed by a totalitarian point of view, a doctrinaire and moralistic spirit." That includes the Orthodox Church? "Only in certain cases, and usually under the influence of the West."

His suspicion of Western influence upon Orthodoxy can hardly be exaggerated. When I raise the question of homosexuality he claims that the Greek Church is traditionally flex-ible and non-judgemental on such issues, but is now becoming more puritanical - due to Western influence. Likewise he ascribes Orthodoxy's weakness for individualistic spirituality to Western pietism. And when I raise the question of Orthodoxy's collusion in nationalism, particularly in Serbia and Russia, he is quick to blame the influence of Western-style nationalism. "Such nationalism is not part of the historic structure of our Church. But in the nineteenth century the autocephalous Churches developed very strong ties with the nation. This danger is now decreasing in the Balkans because of the European Union, but in Russia there is still very close co-operation between Church and State, and it presents problems."

The Greek Church remains officially established: is this an important part of its identity? "Not really: it is a fairly new thing, since the nineteenth century, and it might be passing away now. Before that it lived under Muslim rule. So the Greek approach is flexible: the Church is happy to be part of the State, if the state invites it to have a share in ruling, yet equally it can be independent of the State." The Greek Church has lost much of its cultural centrality in recent years, and regular church attendance has fallen sharply, he says. "But still there is huge residual loyalty - on feast days there are large crowds, but I suppose this might be partly folk religion."

Orthodoxy has much in common with Anglicanism: it is ambiguous about establishment, and proud of its loose, federal, episcopal structure. And Zizioulas' thought has much in common with Rowan Williams', above all the desire to root an open, liberal Church in the social ideal of the Trinity. So does he have any advice for an archbishop trying to hold his communion together? "No, I have no advice, just a great deal of sympathy."

Back to homepage